


Clever Girl

by Belle86



Series: "Girl" 'Verse [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Fucking, Inappropriate Use of Office Supplies, Light Dom/sub, Mild Kink, Mild S&M, Office Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slightly Nonconsensual Blowjobs, Spanking, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle86/pseuds/Belle86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc and Mako take a midday coffee break and end up indulging in a different kind of pick-me-up, and along the way get a lesson in why doors have locks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clever Girl

It’s so innocent, sometimes, when it starts.

Sometimes it’s not carefully plotted, planned, and discussed scenes.

Sometimes it’s two cups of coffee brought from the mess. A midday break in their respective new duties; her needing a break from the clamor and the clangor of the jaeger bays where she now oversaw both new construction and old repairs, stealing away to distract him from his newly heaped-on Marshal duties. 

Part-time support from Pentecost was still only part-time, and she knew that most days he’d rather face down a kaiju in nothing more than a t-shirt and sleep pants than _some more bloody pinch-faced bureaucrats_.

Just coffee. Coffee and a quiet moment had been all there was to it. Her, perched up on the desk, right where he likes so that he can rub her knee through her issue work trousers.

A burn on the back of her hand, of all things, is what starts it. Small, barely the size a hard-gripping fingernail would leave, a footnote in that morning’s work, but he’d gingerly lifted her hand up, leaned in and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to the spot.

He just looked so damned tired.

A suggested pick-me-up, a sly smile that didn’t push one way or the other.

_Well, how could I refuse an offer like that?_

Down to her knees she’d gone, slow and sensuous and coy, making a show of wetting her lips.

He’s still completely dressed, so it’s controlled, not the wet, slurping mess it usually is; because she likes to show him how much she loves sucking his cock, and he likes to see her make a mess of herself.

So she sucks hard, rubs the flat of her tongue against the underside of the head when she gets close to the tip, then sinks down again to meet the fist she has clasped firmly around the thick base of him.

His hands are in her hair, not pushing or controlling, just there, heavy and present, his fingertips toying through it as she bobs and bobs her head.

The door is shut tight, straight across from his desk. His afternoons are usually pretty quiet, but the excitement of being on her knees under his desk is real and hot in her veins as her mouth slides wet and taut around his cock. What a perfect way to spend a coffee break.

The sudden squeal of the door swinging open makes her choke in surprise.

“Marshal!” 

Goddamned Newt Geiszler. 

“Marshal can you weigh in on this please, because I’m about to shove Hermann into the kaiju tank!”

With Geiszler’s squeaking dog toy voice getting closer, Herc quickly shoo’s her under the desk, following in his wheeled chair in order to not expose himself to their uninvited guests. She scrabbles backwards, quietly as possible, and presses herself against the the inside back of the desk. 

Once underneath and, judging by how the two scientists continue to shout at Herc about whatever it is they’re yelling about, safely hidden and unnoticed, she keeps quiet. 

This desk is much smaller than it looks. Not high enough for Herc to even cross his legs under, let alone an adult woman to hide comfortably underneath, even with Herc keeping his legs spread as wide as possible in the cramped space to give her as much room as he could.

She keeps totally still, both hands clasped over her mouth to try to stop herself from giggling at how completely ridiculous the situation is. 

Geiszler and Gottlieb sound like they’re gearing up for another argument, even as they bombard Herc with data and findings and God knows what else they thought was so important they just had to storm into his office unannounced.

Herc, on the other hand, is not still. In their haste to hide what they were doing and get Mako under the desk, he hadn’t had a chance to tuck himself back into his pants.

So his erection is out, wet, and rock hard, the hot flesh pressed up against the cold metal of the desk. He keeps shifting his hips slightly to try and remove the contact between the desk and the head of his dick, as much as he can without the two scientists noticing, unable to just reach down and deal with the problem without arousing suspicion.

She takes pity on him, even as she laughs silently to herself, and lays her hand on his inner thigh before moving her fingertips to the top of his shaft, gently pressing the swollen length down and away from the metal desk. The tip of Herc’s boot finds her calf, rubs it in thanks.

A long moment passes of listening to Geiszler and Gottlieb blabbering their nonsense at Herc - it probably wasn’t nonsense, but the words “breach” and “new” or “reopened” had yet to come out of their mouths, so she really does not care. Half of what is coming out of their mouths is just sniping at each other, anyway. If the rumors were true, she did not want to imagine what their sex life must be like.

An idea comes to her, then.

A terrible idea.

A terrible, awful, loathsome idea.

Herc would kill her.

She grins.

Silently as she can, she shifts herself between Herc’s legs, angles her head a bit to the side, leans forward, and slides her mouth around the head of his cock.

His legs tense up on either side of her, his boot pushing against her leg once again, now in a futile attempt to make her rethink the path she is taking them both down.

Unable to move much in the cramped space and not wanting to risk giving herself away by banging her head on the underside of the desk, she sucks at him in slow, steady pulses, careful to keep a perfect seal around him with her lips, rubbing the flat of her tongue against the sensitive underside of his cockhead.

“Marshal? Are you alright? You look flushed.” Gottlieb’s concern makes her grin around Herc’s erection. She gives the base of it a quick squeeze, sending another pulse of salty pre-come down her throat and brings sputtering sounds from above the desk that are quickly covered up with less-than-convincing sounding coughs.

“Yes, yes, fine, just a bit warm in here. Will that be all, gentlem--”

“No, no, there’s more, wait!” Geiszler’s exclamation come at the perfect time, as Herc had stopped speaking of his own accord, Mako sliding the fingers at the base of his cock up to scratch through the thatch of dark copper curls around the root. 

He loves when she does that. He makes the most wonderful sounds when she does that. It really was so, so unfair of her to do that.

Oh well.

She sucks a few moments more, his legs tense and hard on either side of her, until it sounds like the scientists are wrapping up. Gives him one long, hard, tongue-rubbing pull while Gottlieb tell Herc they’ll leave him to his work, and if he could look over their findings.

“Lock the door on your way out, please, gentlemen, I have a conference call that cannot be interrupted.”

The door slamming shut is loud, even as far away from it was she is, and the new silence in the office hangs heavy with anticipation.

Slowly, very very slowly, she pulls off of his cock, letting it go from her mouth with a loud, wet pop. Settles her back against the inside of the desk. And waits.

Herc’s chair pushes back and his head and shoulders are filling the space in front of her. To someone who doesn’t know him the way Mako Mori knows him, he definitely looks angry. Furious, even.

But she is Mako Mori.

And she knows that look.

This is going to be fun.

Not breaking eye contact, he reaches forward, grips her jaw with one hand. Pushes her mouth open and slides his thumb over her bottom teeth to press down on her tongue.

He backs the chair out further, inching back slowly and pulling her along by the hand on her jaw so that she has to crawl on all fours to follow him.

She holds his eyes like her heart rate isn’t actually increasing at a steady pace. Goes to her feet as gracefully as she can manage and presses her ass back against the desk. Lets her hands settle at its edge.

Her hair is disheveled and her face feels flushed. She gives him the most innocent look she can muster with her mouth still swollen and shiny.

"Think you're clever, don't you, girl?"

She closes her lips around his thumb in response. Closes her lips and sucks.

He lets her play coy for a moment, then slides his thumb from her mouth and spins her around to face the desk. Grasps the front of her work shirt with both hands and pulls it open, the snap closures popping open easily. It’s pushed down her arms and yanked off, the tank she wears underneath follows. He strips her roughly, like a mannequin, tosses the shirts to the side.

Her sports bra he leaves on, but pushes it up so that the band presses down on the tops of her breasts, the pressure like when he binds them with the silky specialty rope he ties her up with sometimes. Her pants go next, the weight of her belt pulling them down to bunch around her ankles.

“Hands flat on the desk.”

He flips open a large file folder on the top of the stack to his right. Pulls the black, inch-wide binder clips off the tops of two of the thick reports there. The plastic and metal clack loudly as he rolls them in his palm.

“Apparently you didn’t get it good enough last night, you need to come in here and pester me to pay attention to your slutty little arse.”

He roughly gropes her breasts with his free hand, tugging at her already stiff nipples. She arches into his touch and rubs her thighs together, desperately in need of friction.

One clip appears in her vision and she goes still, even as her heart continues to pound in her ears.

He lets the moment hang, the only sound her own heavy breathing. Then, casual as anything, grasps one of her breasts and sets the clip on her nipple. Heat and pain blooming in her chest, she moans, writhes back against him. He ignores her reaction and does the same to the other breast, then cups the supple flesh, gripping hard around the clips. 

She love for this to go on for hours, but he doesn’t give her the satisfaction, instead pulls her hips back from the desk and tugs her panties down around her thighs. That can only mean one thing.

For a moment, she wonders if he’ll leave her frustrated and unsatisfied, send her back to the jaeger bay with her ass stinging and her cunt aching, maybe with his come streaked up her back or splattered on her tits under her clothes, while she has to wait until tonight in their quarters.

What a fucking delicious thought.

The sudden clinking of his belt buckle is deafening.

“You want the belt, girl?”

It’s planned, usually, when he’ll use it on her. The number of strokes, the timing, what’s already been done to her, what’s to be done afterward, all discussed and decided beforehand.

When it’s not planned, when none of this planned, he’ll ask. Because sometimes the sound of the buckle makes her want to cower away in fear.

Sometimes it makes her thighs tremble and her tongue run along the back of her teeth.

Today she shakes her head once.

He makes a low sound of acknowledgement, lays it out flat on the desk in front of her. Even if she doesn’t want him to hit her with it, she does like when he scares her with it.

His calloused palm rubs slow, firm circles across her buttocks, gives her a few light smacks, the skin heating up under his hand.

“Gimme a number.”

She doesn’t have to think, “seven.”

It’s always seven. Less so for the jaeger itself than the old Lucky vest he still wears, the one she loves to twist her hands into to pull him closer when he kisses her. With all the pockets that were perfect for hiding things for him to find; a love note every once and a while, or panties, more often than not, because she never does play fair.

“Seven it is,” his voice is deep and throaty in her ear, he gives her a harder hit to her right buttock. “That one doesn’t count.”

Hercules Hansen never does play fair, either.

She shoots a mock-glare over her shoulder at him and flips her hair as she turns to face front again.

Number One comes down on the right, where the one that ‘didn’t count’ had landed.

“What do you say, girl?”

She hums, “thank you.”

“Thank you, what?”

Casting a coy look over to him, she blinks slowly and licks her lips, “thank you, _sir_.”

He loves it when she sasses him during play, they both love when he makes her pay for it. And in the weekly briefing tomorrow morning she is going to love calling him ‘sir’ as she visibly shifts in her seat, and then watching the blush creep up from his collar.

She holds his eyes as Two and Three sting across her left cheek.

Four lands hard in the plump middle of the right, making her cry out and drop down to brace herself on her forearms against the desk.

Five makes her grit her teeth, hitting at the top of her left thigh.

Still not playing fair, he pushes her down ever so slightly between her shoulder blades, making the clips on her nipples press against the desk top.

She whines at the sharp, aching pressure jolting through her chest.

“Oh, be quiet, you love it.”

She does love it. Didn’t mean she couldn’t be a brat about it.

Still two spanks left, but first he rubs one broad, rough palm against her ass. She wriggles and whines again as the blood rushes to the surface of her skin, hot and pulsing.

Six hits the hardest yet, square on her right cheek, Seven the same on her left.

She moans out her last _”thank you sir”_ as he moves behind her and presses himself flush against her buttocks, settling his erection to rest against her sex, hard and pushing up against her. She whines, resisting the urge to arch her back and wriggle her hips to push herself down onto his thick length, swollen and wet with pre-cum and her own saliva.

She doesn’t get to catch her breath before he’s reaching under her, taking the clips off after a quick, vicious tug. Her loud pants change into louder squeals at the sharp, painful flares in her chest as the blood rushes back to her nipples, then near howls when he grips the sensitive buds between his forefingers and thumbs, and twists.

Less than a minute of that exquisite torture has her bucking back against him, panting open mouthed over the desk, nearly drooling onto it’s surface.

He lets go of her tits only to roughly pull her sore, red buttocks apart. His thumbs spread open her folds and he whistles, low and crude. “Look how you wet you are. Now that’s a dripping wet slut pussy if I ever saw one.”

Being called a slut shouldn’t turn her on. Having the swollen lips of her cunt held apart while she’s bent over a desk definitely shouldn’t turn her on.

But she is turned on. Turned on and sopping wet. Soaked and slick and open, just like the slut he says she is. She moans again and drops her head forward, her face hot with the same shame that also makes her throb between her thighs.

Without giving her a chance to get her bearings, he lines his cockhead up at her entrance and slams into her to the hilt, driving the air from her lungs as she fruitlessly tries to scramble forward, her body trying to escape the sudden pressure and intrusion. But being pressed flush against the desk leaves her pinned in place as his thick, thick cock drives deep inside her.

He grips her shoulders with both hands and pounds into her without preamble or a moment’s breath to give her body a chance to adjust. The pace he sets is hard, punishing and unmerciful. And absolutely perfect.

She’s so close already, and him using her like a fuck doll is pushing her even closer to orgasm, the hard, wet grind inside of her sending sparks skittering up though her gut.

When he pulls her back from the desk just enough to slide one hand under her hips and slide the pad of one finger in steady, firm circles against her clit, it’s almost too much. She needs to come, and she needs to come now.

She pants against the desk, her breath making a haze of condensation against the lacquered wood, hot against her own face.

“Please can--please,” he hasn’t even instructed her to ask to come, it’s just instinct by now.

“Please can I come sir, please _pleasecan--_ ”

“You’d bloody better.”

Three more deep breaths, three more intense, pounding thrusts, and she’s gone, white-hot pleasure bursting in her abdomen, her cunt clenching down hard around him in quick pulses.

He leans forward over her back, presses a lush, wet kiss to her neck, “good girl.”

Her inner walls quiver around him at the praise and she whimpers, sensation overwhelming her as he slowly thrusts in and out of her a few more times.

He pulls out of her slowly, his cock grinding and dragging out of her tightness. 

She feels so empty without him inside her, and turns easily around when he pushes her that way, opens her mouth eagerly when his fingers suggest it.

“This pretty mouth has some unfinished business, hmm?”

She nods, panting. “Yes, sir.”

The tilt of his head sends her back down to her knees, eagerly grasping the base of his cock and heaving herself forward to cram the hard, thick flesh into her mouth. His hands are quickly in her hair again, gripping hard and insistent this time. He’s salty and musky and she moans as she tastes herself and it’s filthy and dirty and wonderful. 

She sucks hard, moves her tongue as much as she can against the rigid flesh, grips one hand tight around the base and pushes the other up under his shirt to scratch up his abdomen the way he likes.

At his loud groan, she sets her pace.

Her pace is short lived, though. Pretty soon, his hands in her hair grip harder and begin to move her head up and down at the same time he starts to roll his hips up to fuck her mouth. She moans and relaxes into it, letting him hold her head and take over.

This wasn’t planned, they haven’t worked up to their normal level, so her throat getting fucked isn’t a realistic option. Rather than forcing the act, he lets her keep her hand in place, fucks shallowly and quickly as she drools and slurps. Her other hand is braced against his taut stomach. She digs her nails in deep to make him grunt.

Drags them down harder to make him yell.

The hand in her hair grips tighter. “Open your eyes, girl.”

She does. Looks up at him with fat, wet tears pushing out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Look at you. Such a mess from sucking my cock.”

She whimpers loudly in response, gives him her very best doe-eyes.

He pulls her off with the hand in her hair. Bats her hand away from his cock and replaces it with his own, pumping himself hard and fast.

“Look at me, baby, look at me and open your mouth,” he growls, pumping his cock and holding her eyes, he grunts loudly as he comes, shooting his hot, salty release into her mouth, the heady taste exploding across her tongue.

She holds her mouth open, breathes through her nose as he strokes himself out completely. He tilts his hips forward and presses the wet tip of his cock against her mouth, squeezing the drops of pearly white come just past her bottom lip to pool in her mouth with the rest.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

She swipes her tongue from side to side through the puddle of spunk in her open mouth, then closes her lips to make a show of swallowing it down. She revels in the appreciative hum she gets from him.

He tucks himself back into his trousers and retrieves the large leather desk chair from where it had been pushed off to in the midst of their activities.

“C’mere.” He pulls her into his lap, slouching down in the chair to let her lay on her side along his leg and chest as best she can.

He runs his fingertips up and down her thigh, trailing them once up over her ass, pink and speckled red, gives her a quick kiss when she shudders at the sensation.

“I’ll grab you some ice, baby.”

She shakes her head, “not yet,” and cuddles in closer to his chest, like a child that doesn’t want to get out of bed in the morning.

It’s all warmth and closeness, now. Like always. Maybe not their usual set-up, with the big bed and the mountain of blankets, although Herc’s probably more upset about that than she is. But his arms are around her, and she can hear the pounding of his heartbeat from where she’s cuddled in against his chest, so she’s having trouble finding any reason to be anything but totally content right now.

As their heart rates slowly return to normal, Mako looks over at the mess they’ve made of his desk and feels oddly proud. “I had no idea you’d be so angry with me for interrupting you doing paperwork.”

He laughs, “more like for giving me a reason to associate those two with getting my dick sucked.”

“Maybe you should keep your door locked during the day,” she says.

“Maybe we should just have sex in our quarters like normal people,” he counters.

She tilts her head up to give him her most disapproving look.

He laughs again and kisses her furrowed brows, “alright, fine, you win.”

She always does.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so my submission for Red Shoe Day is late(story of my life) but hey, it's here!


End file.
